Her. The Unborn Child!
National Economic Failure! New Economic Failure! National Economic Forum!
Which? The Unborn Child!
Who? The Unborn Child!
What? The Unborn Child!
That? The Unborn Child!
The Future of today-ness. Wow! The Unborn Child! Wept. Wept. Wept. For the day today-ness gave birth to The Future of today. So profusely. The Unborn Child. That was. Tears of sadness. That is. New Emotional Failure! New Economic Fumble! Wept. Wept. Wept. The Unborn Child!
The Unborn Child had cried and cried and cried seamlessly in the accommodating-heat of her mother’s frigid-womb. Why? For the abject failure of her postpartum leaders, Today’s Leadership, to carefully and strategically plan for The Future, her postnatal outside-world, into which The Womb, her mother’s socio-political essence, delivered her, The Unborn Child. As a matter of moral urgency, that future world of close material and spiritual proximity, an intellectual nearness to The Womb, had been born over and over again, like the Ancient Egyptian Osiris, Christological rebirth, or Chinua Achebe’s Objanje, yet The Future, that nebulose unborn potential of seeming material and spiritual belongingness, never seemed to have made a strong showing in the tunneled panorama of material belongingness, in the revolving-door oversight of cultural mercuriality.
That future, The Future, was indeed the National Economic Forum (NEF). That unborn outlook of today-ness. Say what? National Economic Failure. Incontrovertibly standoffish in political mannerisms. Yeah. It was. It had been. Always. That future of unsightliness. Of today-ness. That far-offish today-ness! Yet, today, that future was also an assemblage of high-class concubinary prostitutes of churchly politicians, of Today’s Leadership. A future not ready to submit to Sisyphean industry but to Narcissistic political self-centeredness! Yeah. Certainly, that future was not the National Economic Forum (NEF). Certainly, that future of The Unborn Child was the Non-Eurocentric Future (NEF), a non-Fata Morgana world of intellectual and cultural certainty. For The Unborn Child!
The conference began as planned. Oh yes!
And then? As Today had already noted, at least from the placental vantage-point, The Unborn Child, a grief-stricken daughter of The Future, watched with frozen trepidation as a kitchen cabinet constitutive of high-class concubinary prostitutes of churchly politicians, gathered in The Royal Senchi, a luxurious, expensive Island of Utopia, to discuss her future, that future suspended in a weightless limbo of social and political nonchalance. Sad. Unfortunate. The Unborn Child would have wished those callous politicians had used the placental vantage-point, an incorporeal classroom under an Iroko Tree, not The Royal Senchi, a Bermuda Triangle of political inaction and of moral insensitivity, instead, for their conferential deliberations.
Her. The Unborn Child would have wished those politicians had used the bedless maternity hospitals and accident traps for their conferential deliberations. Oh Mother Africa, what kind of wayward and clueless political animals did you give The African World after the demise of The Scarab Beetle? The Royal Senchi, an Aso Rock of wicked corruption. The intellectually crippled politicians met there in that red-hot brothel-cesspool of wicked corruption. In that Aso Rock of wicked corruption, The Unborn Child’s future. Even the callous politicians extricated her, The Unborn Child, from that future, The Royal Senchi conference, by rejecting her claims to that unborn potential. Just like The Cottonians of yesteryear did to the Africans of yesteryear when they met during the 1884 Berlin Conference to butcher the vaginal body of Africa into political mincemeats! Like history, like today!
Her. The Unborn Child. S.E.N.C.H.I. Signs. Economic. National. Children. Harboring. Inadequacies. S.E.N.C.H.I. National children of political animals, social androids and automatons, replete with moral inadequacies. The fathers, mothers, and grandparents of The Unborn Child. Heavens! What a pity! S.E.N.C.H.I. A brothel-cesspool of wicked corruption, of political cluelessness. The Royal Senchi, a Witch Camp!
Better still, The Unborn Child would have preferred those callous politicians had used any of the bedless maternity hospitals littered across the country, The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo, for their conferential deliberations. But no! That was not what democracy, an imported EPA or GMO commodity, was about. Not even remotely. Indeed, the kind of democracy practiced in The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo was eloquently one of “insults, counter-insults, kleptomania, parliamentary intimidation, and winner-takes-all.” Thus far, The People, of whom The Unborn Child materially and immaterially belonged, did not matter, did not count in that political numeracy of moral belongingness, either, in that “Animal Farm” democracy! The Unborn Child of Senchi! What a joke!
The Unborn Child thoroughly inspected her Tree Classroom and then compared it with the deluxe milieu of The Royal Senchi. Her classroom environ was a cemetery. Certainly. As well as a mortuary. Certainly. Neither like Senchi. Many of The Tree Schools in The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo took after cemeteries and morgues. Not conducive places for learning. The ghostly mortician-teachers in those cemeteries and morgues constituted a social salad of aggrieved morticians. She observed, The Unborn Child. Even the bedless maternity hospitals were graveyards. The wormy roads to her school, roads built specifically for vehicular Dinosaurs and Elephants and Mammoths, took the place of accident traps.
Yet, she sat on an empty kwashiorkor-stomach in class that day, that day of The Future of today-ness, while, the corrupt politicians, Today’s Leadership, munched their way happily through mountains and forests of sumptuous meals and exquisite wines. At The Royal Senchi! What is more, galamsey-related planation activities had practically reduced The Womb to waste. She, The Unborn Child, smelled, even felt the crushing weight of environmental pollution on her non-hispid pate. The water she drank, unlike the politicians’ exquisite Senchi wines which came exclusively from The Land of The Cottonians, originated from galamsey-polluted rivers, lakes, and rivulets. Unfortunately, The Political Prostitute, the callous politicians, kept his distance from all those. The Unborn Child never understood the mis-behavior of The Political Prostitute. Possibly, a better explanation may have been that she was not of the external world of politics, that is, Senchi politics, but, undoubtedly, even plausibly, of womb-like political interiorness!
Not a political insider, The Unborn Child. Conversely. Yet, even of Today, the same womb-like political interiorness presented itself as The Future before her, her political present of slightly cultural immediateness. That future, of today, was integral to her well-protected world of womb-like political interiorness. Unlike Senchi politics. Admittedly, she knew more about The Future than The Political Prostitute knew about The Past. Simply because the latter had belonged to The Present, and she, The Unborn Child, had yet to own The Future, the unborn potential. That made a huge difference on their intellectual outlooks. And since The Unborn Child was The Political Prostitute’s direct posterity, what was he doing to make life better for the citizens of The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo?
Was Senchi politics adequate? The Political Prostitute’s political myopia made it impossible for him to even notice that The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo lacked electricity. Besides, the salutary conditions enjoyed by him and by his democratic cabals of political kleptomaniacs made it impossible for him to raise cutting-edge hospital facilities for The People on the forlorn face of The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo. In fact, the corruptible hands of The Political Prostitute stole The People’s money via extravagant electioneering sleights of hand. The Political Prostitute also turned to have more hands than any law-abiding member of The People. Put differently, democratic cabalization and political thievishness were partly, if not mostly, to blame for The Political Prostitute’s intellectual near-sightedness. Senchi politics. For you. And Them.
Specifically, The Unborn Child knew, had even foreseen, that The Political Prostitute’s daylight robbery of public funds and of mineral wealth, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, threatened to defoliate and denudate her future. Expose her vaginal nakedness to the elements! The Unborn Child’s material today-ness. That future. The Future. Of which The Political Prostitute was not part! “Did The Royal Senchi’s NEF ever think of radically reforming her failing educational institutions, namely, institutional graveyards, cemeteries, and morgues for students’ minds?” The Unborn Child pointedly asked of The Future, of The Womb. What happened to the future of today-ness? In fact, was Senchi politics a political animal of his word? Was Senchi politics a man of The People, a property-owning democracy, or a political elephant of kleptocracy? Senchi politics. That? For The People.
Those questions were equally important to any national discourse attempting to get the distortive economy of The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo’s out of its frozen political morass. Mineral wealth and cash crops were not necessarily substitutes for wealth. Senchi politicians did not understand that. Wealth, material or spiritual, was exclusively of the human mind, not of impractical dreams. Senchi politicians did not understand that. Either. Human capital management constituted the single most essential transformative link between mental lethargy and creativity, while, human capital management, on the other hand, fed upon the neural network of the human brain. Senchi politicians missed that one too. In other words, human and social capital assumed intellectual paramountcy in the psycho-emotional privacy of the human cranium. That, the latter, was where The Unborn Child thought The Royal Senchi’s NEF conferential deliberations should have begun. The mental health of The Political Prostitute himself!
Senchi politics. Were deviations from economic fundamentals the primary causation of The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo’s economic woes? Huge budget deficits. High interest rates. High inflation rate. Negative trade deficits. Lack of confidence in the state’s banking and financial health. Unparalleled stiff competition between wage/income and state of economy. Ill-health of job market. Low confidence level in domestic business profile. Etc. Etc. Etc. Were they not problems of the mind as well? How could these have undermined the national economy of The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo? Was there Senchi psychiatry? Moreover, given that those previous instances of The Royal Senchi’s NEF conferential deliberations failed to either foresee or capture the advent of the economic tangle of The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo, what else was there for The People?led by the myopic Political Prostitute?to do in order to nip embryonic economic woes in the bud before resurrecting to cause additional havoc?
Her. The Unborn Child. Senchi Politics. Senchi psychiatry. Tree Classrooms. Accident traps. Bedless maternity hospitals. Kleptocracy. Pedagogical cemeteries, morgues, and graveyards. Didactic morticians. Psychological and intellectual gravediggers, the warped minds of the students of The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo. Lack of paramedics and ambulances. Etc. Etc. Etc. It was against this background The Unborn Child wished she had been given an opportunity to share her future, The Future, with the callous political animals of The Past, her forward-looking present. She would have also wished to have been given the opportunity to preach to them that technical education?science, technology, and mathematics?was the gateway to The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo’s industrial, technological, and economic success, not Liberal Arts/Humanities, though, by and large, the Social Sciences had their place in the progressive societal evolutionism of The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo, for, among other things, she, The Unborn Child, consistently wondered why proficiency in English had become socially and politically synonymous with wisdom, commonsense.
Like before, Senchi politicians glossed over the political economy of science, mathematics, and technology as needful political variables in the social equation of national growth and development. Furthermore, Senchi politicians did not attach moral urgency, if at all, to the question of political corruption as one of the influential gravitational forces driving the Newtonian destruction of The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo. Those pressing issues, those imperative tributarian inventories of social ills, however, directly fed into her vaginal river of suspicions, that, the educational system of The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo had, eventually, resolved into lifeless cemeteries and morgues, where, parents, for one, sent the atrophied and macrocephalic heads of their children for eternal burial, for eternal paralytic cryogenization. The Unborn Child’s future of today-ness finally in trouble!
Was this why Fela Kuti once told the mortician-teachers “Teacher Don’t Teach Me Nonsense”? Ironically, The Unborn Child and The Political Prostitute both knew mortician-teachers in the Tree Classroom schools taught their dead students “Teacher You Must Teach Me Nonsense”! Why had the educational institutions of The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo become social manufactories for churning out thieves and murderers? Interestingly, Bob Marley, one of The Unborn Child’s greatest philosopher-teachers, had this to say about the Machiavellian politics of religiosity and of education in The No Man’s Land of Political Limbo:
Rebel, rebel, rebel!
Babylon system is the Vampire;
Sucking the children day by day;
Rebel, rebel, rebel!
Building church and university;
Deceiving the people continually;
Rebel, rebel, rebel!
I say they are graduating thieves and murderers;
I’m gonna take just one step more;
Cause I feel like bombing a church; now that you know the preacher is lying;
Tell the children the truth; tell the children the truth;
Rebel, rebel, rebel!
What about Senchi politicians? Were they going to escape the terroristic seismic fury of The Earth, the sickly bombast of seismic pretense, unscathed? The Earthquake! In actuality, political or democratic cabalization had simply turned into Babylon, a vampiric system capable of robbing the minds of The People as well as of their wealth in broad daylight. Unfortunately, as a strict matter of moral emphasis, students went to school purely for reasons of shadow-thinking, in other words, to learn the archaic dance moves of dead Cottonian philosophers, as well as to eat, masticate, and fight over bones discarded by The Cottonians. Critical thinking had simply ceased to be a mark of intelligence, of wisdom, of psycho-emotional maturity.
Should the National Economic Forum (NEF) not have been appropriately termed National Economic Failure (NEF) instead?
We shall return…
